Steal Your Tentmate's Pants Day
by FlamingDoritos
Summary: Because what else was Ike supposed to say when Mist walked in on him undressing Soren?


A/N: Filler because I'm lazy, and because several people have asked about it anyways. So here's the origin of the best holiday ever (celebrated on April 4, every year, for 4 years straight now) and a little of Ike and Soren's very beginning, just because I can.  


* * *

The first time Ike had kissed Soren it had been mostly unplanned.

Sort of. That was the story he would have given anyone who had asked. Ike had taken advantage of their shared tent, certainly. And at fifteen, he figured it was time he learned how to kiss anyways. And Soren had been flat on his back, hair unbound and pooling around him like silk, his breathing steady and his face relaxed. The dim light of their campfire illuminated their tent just enough for Ike to look at Soren for a long time, contemplating. Soren was perfect, anyways. Smart and quiet and a good companion, even if they were just sitting in the same room together, not saying a word. If Ike had known what exactly love was he might have said that he loved Soren, even though he'd never before heard of two _boys_ liking each other. But what did it matter, anyways? Rhys had told him once that Ashera wanted them all to love each other anyways. He'd never been specific. And he knew that he at least _liked_ Soren.

So Ike had leaned over, prepared to press his lips to Soren's as the mage slept. Soren would never have to know. When his breath brushed against Soren's face the mage's eyes opened. Ike froze. Soren gave him a hard look.

"Ike."

He flinched. "Yes?"

"Are you planning on kissing me?"

This time he felt his left eyebrow twitch. He glanced away from Soren. The mage was impossible to lie to. Not because he could always see the truth but because it was _Soren_, and Ike always felt guilty when he told anything but the truth. "I…I _was_."

"Why?"

And now he could feel himself flushing. He sat up and stared at the tent wall. Behind him he could hear Soren sitting up. He knew that Soren was giving him the look he did every time he was observing something he hadn't seen before. "I…y-you…"

"Ike. You will answer me."

"I don't know." It was partly the truth. "I've never kissed anybody before."

"So I am merely an outlet for your desires?" He knew Soren had one eyebrow raised.

"No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know. Because you're you."

"Elaborate."

This was too embarrassing. But the order was there and he could do nothing other than obey, because it was _Soren_ and Soren knew everything, from how to do math to how to strategize to how to make Ike tell him anything.

Soren's voice came again. Closer. "Ike. Tell me why."

"Because I like you, that's why." Ike bit his lip. "I don't know. Because you're smart and you make me laugh when there's nobody else around and because you got me drinking tea last summer and you've got a really nice smile and I like being with you and I like being the one to make you smile." He paused to catch his breath. "I don't know. Because it's you and I like you, Soren."

"Charming, as always."

Ike turned and saw Soren half-smiling. The mage had his chin resting in one hand and was giving him the same look he did over breakfast when they were talking and sipping their tea together, crimson eyes lidded and his mouth curved into a smile and his fingers absently playing with the stray ends of his bangs.

It clicked in his head that Soren might like him back.

"Soren."

"Ike."

"S-Soren."

"Ike." The mage was smiling fully now. "Go on, if you're going to say something then do it. I've no patience for your stammering; you should know that by now."

That only made things worse. "S-Soren. I—d-do—I mean—"

And Soren had the nerve to laugh, laying back down and pulling his blanket around him again. "Talk to me when you've gained some coherency."

Ike had felt rather offended by that and he moved for Soren, intent on rolling the mage over and talking to his face rather than the back of his head. And as he reached for Soren the mage turned and smiled at him. Slender fingers laced with his, pulling him down. Soren's lips brushed Ike's fingertips and he looked up at Ike.

"If you're going to do something, then do it," he breathed.

Ike gently brushed Soren's hair from his cheeks. The mage was still smiling and Ike leaned down to press his lips to Soren's birthmark. He felt Soren's skin heat and when he pulled away he couldn't help grinning too, because Soren looked as though he were thrilled and trying very hard not to show it.

"Soren."

"Ike."

"Can I kiss you?"

"If you must." Soren's face had settled somewhat but his eyes were shining.

And at that point the knot in his stomach tightened and he realized that he had no idea how to go about this. He'd seen his parents kiss before, sure. But _he_ had never done it. What if he somehow screwed this all up?

But Soren was waiting, giving him that _hurry it up_ look, and Ike leaned down and pressed their lips together. Soren's lips moved against his slightly and then he pulled away. Soren's face was as calm as it always was.

"Are you satisfied?" he murmured. His lips threatened to curve upward but he maintained his composure.

"I…no," Ike breathed.

Soren grinned and hauled him down, kissing him hard. They came together perhaps a bit too hard but it was forgotten in seconds; Soren's tongue swept along his bottom lip and when he gasped in surprise it slid into his mouth. And goddess, Soren tasted wonderful. The mage's tongue moved against his and the smaller teen pulled him as close as was physically possible.

When the mage finally pulled away he was smiling, really smiling the way he did for no one else. His fingers threaded into Ike's hair and he pulled Ike against his chest, squeezing gently.

"You know that I like you too, don't you?"

Ike chuckled. "I suspected as much."

"Will you sleep here tonight?"

"In the morning—"

"I'll wake you before anyone else does."

Ike curled against Soren's side, nuzzling his cheek against the mage's chest. "Mm. I like you."

"And I you."

-}(*){-

That had been nearly a year ago. They were in almost the same situation: on a hunting trip with Boyd and Oscar and Mist, sharing a tent and ignoring the dying campfire and the sunset. But Soren was biting his lip as Ike kissed down his neck and Ike was smirking, hands slipping beneath his clothing. They couldn't do much with so many people nearby. But Soren had always been quiet and he was no different now, even as Ike smoothed a hand down his stomach, over his hip, pointedly ignoring his arousal.

"Tease," Soren breathed.

"You love it," Ike murmured into his neck. "And weren't you the one who said we wouldn't do anything because we might get caught?"

"Your arguments are rather convincing." Soren smiled and hauled him up for a kiss. "And you know that, unlike you, I am perfectly capable of achieving orgasm with no sound passing my lips."

"But when everyone else is at the market you're more than willing to scream." Ike's voice was low and he finally stroked his fingers over Soren's arousal, pointedly staying on the outside of Soren's pants. Soren's expression hardly wavered. His lips curved upward only slightly and his eyes softened. _I love you. Go ahead_.

Ike smiled and slid a hand over the laces of Soren's pants, loosening them. Slowly he slid them over the mage's slender hips. He contemplated opening the mage's robes but decided against it, just in case. Soren let out a soft groan and slid one hand into Ike's hair.

And at that exact moment their tent flap was pulled open.

Ike froze. Soren stilled his breathing and propped himself up on his elbows. Mist blinked several times, seeming to have forgotten why she was in here in the first place. Innocent, ten-year-old Mist had just walked in on them.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked. Ike glanced down to Soren's partly-revealed skin, to the sage, and back to his sister. She was giving him a look of such innocent curiosity that he couldn't help but lie through his teeth.

"It's a holiday," he blurted out.

"A holiday." She frowned. "I don't remember there being a holiday today."

"It's not very well-known, from the southern side of the country." He glanced up at Soren; the sage was giving him an amused smile. He continued. "I overheard someone talking about it in the market this morning. It's called Steal Your Tentmate's Pants Day. You celebrate by stealing your tentmate's pants and then running away with them." He gestured downward. "So, in answer to your question, _I'm_ sticking with tradition. What are _you_ doing?"

Mist grinned. "Sticking with tradition!" With that, she darted out of their tent. Moments later they heard Boyd shouting and Oscar laughing loudly. Mist's footsteps thudded past their tent, a still-cursing Boyd close behind her.

Soren hauled him up and kissed him. Ike groaned, gently pressing himself between Soren's legs. It wasn't meant to be more than an intimate gesture and Soren simply hummed, hooking his legs over Ike's, pulling the other teen close.

"I daresay that that was the fastest you've ever thought," Soren murmured. "Credit where credit is due, I suppose."

Ike nuzzled against his neck. "Yes, well. Did that completely kill the mood for you, too?"

The mage chuckled. "Yes."

Their tent flap opened again but it was only Oscar and Ike hardly moved at all, simply turning his head enough to look at the knight. The older man had known about them right from the beginning anyways, right from the moment Ike had asked whether it was normal to feel this way about another boy. It was hardly worth hiding.

"I daresay that this is the best excuse I've ever heard of," Oscar said. "I'll have to remember this next time I visit the Knights."

Ike bit his lip. "About Father—"

Oscar shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. We both heard that merchant talking about the tradition, didn't we? It's not like this is some sort of way to divert attention from your orientation or anything." The knight grinned. "I'll vouch for you if that's what it comes to."

"Thank you." That came from Soren. The mage was giving Oscar a look. "Please leave."

"Of—_Boyd if you don't put that rock down this instant you're answering to Greil_—of course." Oscar smiled. "Have a good night, the both of you."

"Thank you," Ike murmured. As Oscar left he nuzzled against Soren's chest. The mage squeezed him and chuckled.

"Stupid tradition," he said, kissing Ike's hair. "But a good excuse to get this close."

"I love you," Ike whispered. It was nearly lost in the sounds of the commotion outside.

Soren pulled him up and kissed him. "I love you, too."


End file.
